


Lost In France

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-13
Updated: 2005-07-13
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Oh - just a snippet - post TB/NTB - Pouting!Methos, daybreak, concert - dancing... You'll see.





	Lost In France

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Fucker.

 

'I don't know who or what you are.' How DARE he?

 

If I hadn't left when I did... well I just might have killed him. After dropping Joe off at his place, I drove to my apartment building. Sat in the car for the longest time, just thinking. About him - about us.

 

//Well, you old fool, you've really done it this time.// Why, oh why was I... WHAT the hell was my problem? I don't fall for straight men. Ever.

 

And, I'd have to search long and hard to find a man more rampantly heterosexual than Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.

 

'I don't know who or what you are.'

 

Growling at my own foolishness - yet unable to rid my mind of the knowledge that even as I sat here agonizing over him, he was on the fucking barge, fucking that fucking bitch Amanda.

 

I hated her - I hated him. Hell, I hated every fucking thing in the fucking world at that moment.

 

Impatiently, angrily, I climbed out of the car and started inside. Realized that the walls of my small apartment would be claustrophobic right then and started walking. Once I'd gotten into my stride, I covered a lot of miles in the next few hours. Hell, after 5,000 years of practice, if there was one thing I did well, walking was it.

 

Obviously those years hadn't been enough time to learn to recognize a lost cause when I saw one.

 

At first I really did think he returned my interest. The man is one hell of a flirt. Gradually, though, I realized that it was just his way - I'd mistaken his teasing as flirting. By then it was too late for me, though. I had fallen for him like the proverbial ton of bricks.

 

Have I mentioned that I HATE him?

 

At least Mac hadn't figured out how I felt - that was the one saving grace of the situation. No, the man was completely oblivious. Idiot.

 

Joe knew - hell, there was no mistaking the sympathetic understanding I caught in his expression every once in a while. He never actually said anything, though.

 

Smart man, that Joe. Him, I like.

 

Which was a shame - because I was about to disappear. Yes, that was my plan. Bora Bora, I'd decided. A decade or two of laying on the beaches - and fucking anyone that caught my fancy... that would help. I'd fuck my brains out and forget all about him.

 

I hoped.

 

Decision made, I stopped and looked around me. I noticed two things - one, the sun was just breaking the horizon and, two, I'd somehow found my way to the Eiffel Tower. And - I was surrounded by people. Odd at this hour - the French are a strange race, but this was truly unusual. They like their sleep, you see. Sunrise is NOT their favorite time of day; not mine, either, to tell the truth.

 

But, there they - there WE - were. And a band was warming up.

 

Curious, I stuck around to see if I could figure out what the hell was going on. When the band started playing, I was more than a little surprised to see that couples were dancing - and all of said couples were same-sex pairs.

 

NOT something I was prepared to endure. Not that morning. Sighing, I turned to leave. I carefully kept my eyes trained on the ground, avoiding the painful sight of so many gay couples together.

 

And, damned if I didn't manage to run right into someone. "Sorry," I mumbled, backing up a step and moving to dodge the obstructing figure.

 

Two hands landed on my shoulders.

 

Large hands.

 

Warm hands.

 

"Methos."

 

Oh FUUUCK. What the hell was HE doing here?

 

"Get out of my way, Mac," I said in a rough voice.

 

"No." His hands closed more tightly on my shoulders.

 

Fucker.

 

I reversed my momentum and backed up a step.

 

He kept pace.

 

"Methos, we need to talk."

 

//I think NOT!//

 

"Leave me be, MacLeod. Go back to Amanda." That gave away a little more than I'd intended - but, what the fuck? I'd be out of Paris soon enough. In a couple of hundred years he'd forget all about my foolishness.

 

"Amanda left just after you did."

 

Uh huh.

 

Something in my stance must've told him I was more than a little skeptical. One hand moved to raise my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "She did, I promise you. I've been looking for you all night, Methos."

 

"Why?"

 

He shuffled his feet and looked away for a moment. "Because," he finally said, turning back to meet my suspicious gaze, "I didn't say the right thing last night. I should have said... " He stopped and swallowed heavily.

 

"Should have said WHAT?"

 

"I... um... " Suddenly he moved closer and took me in his arms.

 

//Oh shit.//

 

"What the hell are you doing, MacLeod?"

 

"Dancing."

 

"Why?" I asked him again.

 

He shrugged. "Because I want to - want to... I, um - Ihavefeelingsforyou."

 

Well, he shut me up with that. Frozen with shock, I stood there dumbly.

 

"Before she left," he whispered into my ear, "Amanda said I was an idiot to let you go."

 

"What the fuck does SHE know about it?" The bitch.

 

"She said that you had feelings for me, too."

 

Oh.

 

The conniving little bitch.

 

What the fuck could I say in answer to THAT? Deny everything? Call him a fool - a delusional fool? Or take the chance that Amanda was right... about his feelings for me?

 

Without direction, my feet started moving, following his lead, dancing with him to the slow bluesy tune the band was playing. Gradually, I relaxed against his solid warmth. And, damn, he felt good. Better than I'd even imagined.

 

I didn't stand a chance against him - or myself.

 

When the song ended, he leaned back to look searchingly into my face. "Can we go home now?"

 

Home?

 

Home.

 

Yes!

 

I may be a fool - but, fuck it. I'll always regret not taking this chance - and I have more than enough regrets.

 

"Yes," I answered. "Home it is."

 

Where we'd go from here, I'd no idea. And, at that moment, I couldn't have cared less.

 

He sounded sincere - and I wanted him so much... wanted it to be possible. Hope is not a familiar feeling to me any longer. But, with him, for him, I had no choice.

 

Silently, we went to his car, climbed in, and he drove us back to the barge.

 

__

_Lost In France_

_In the fields the birds were singing_

_I was lost in France_

_And the day was just beginning_

_As I stood there in the morning rain_

_I had a feeling I can't explain_

_I was lost in France in love_

_I was lost in France_

_In the street a band was playing_

_And the crowd all danced_

_Didn't catch what they were saying_

_When I looked up he was standing there_

_I knew I shouldn't but I didn't care_

_I was lost in France in love_


End file.
